Phantom Pains
by JimboS
Summary: Xander is attacked by a viscious demon and must deal with how his injuries affect his life. WIP.
1. Chapter 1

Phantom Pain  
  
Author: JimboS  
  
E-mail: RaistlinM1@aol.com  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters used in this story only the plot is mine, and even that is pretty basic.  
  
Author's note: I hope you enjoy the story. It has been brewing in my head for a while now and after the last episode the plot finally came together for me. So here it is. Enjoy and since this is my first try at true angst let me know what you think of it.  
  
Dedication: MJ, I appreciate you to no end. I thank you so much for taking time out to look over this.  
  
* * *  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The waxing moon spread its pale cold light across the deceptively quiet town of Sunnydale, as a sparrow flew low through the night riding the last remnants of the warm air currents that rose from the cooling ground. The bird watched the ground passing beneath him intently on the look out for a late night meal, but all that could be found was a slip of a girl walking on the lonely sidewalk below. The girl traveled through the night with a confidence that is only discovered when a person loses all fear for anything that lurks in the night but then again that is how all Slayers walk.  
  
Buffy strode forward with purpose slowing only long enough to check the piece of paper, with a listing of recently rented houses and apartments on it, clutched in her right hand with the address for the house in front of her. She finally came to a stop in front of a small cookie-cutter house, triple checking the address to be sure.  
  
There could be no mistake; it was the same house where Buffy had been attacked the other night by the dangerous vision-inducing demon the other night during her search for the nerdy trio. Buffy did a sweep of the perimeter of the house looking in the windows for signs of her prey. Buffy stopped in front of a small window to the basement when she saw a few assorted gadgets and toys lying around inside.  
  
A quick pull on the window caused the latch to give way to the supernatural slayer strength allowing the Slayer entry in to the trio's lair. Buffy was amazed at the strange mix of science and science fiction. Toys and models were strewn among the surveillance equipment and the blue prints of the Millennium Falcon are mixed in with designs for freeze rays and other weapons. Buffy walked through the small hovel of a basement checking for clues as to the whereabouts of the group, but she could find no sign until stumbled upon a VHS tape with a yellow post-it note attached with 'PLAY ME' written on it.  
  
Buffy gave the room a quick search to find a place to play the tape that she held in her hand. Her search was rewarded when she spots another note sitting on a VCR across the room with 'OVER HERE' written on it. Buffy placed the tape in to the VCR and pressed play before waiting for the picture to arrive.  
  
She was not surprised to see Warren, the leader of the trio, smiling at her, but she was surprised to see that the VCR had been hooked up to the entire surveillance system placing Warren's smiling face on all seven televisions screens.  
  
"Slayer," said Warren with a wide smile, as if he was sharing in a joke with Buffy, which gives her an immediate bad feeling. "I'm so glad that you decided to drop in and visit us. I mean it took so much work for us to put together our little spell."  
  
"What spell," Buffy asked the screen too shocked to consider the fact that nobody was in the room.  
  
"What spell, you ask," said Warren smiling even wider as if he saw Buffy's surprised look. "Well we were going to just conjure up another demon to fight you, I mean we did well with that last one, but I just figured that it wouldn't be enough. I mean every time we attack you head on we lose, so I had an idea. Why not attack your friends and family? So I had my comrades bake up a little spell that summons a demon to the Summer's residence as soon as you enter this room. I wonder how long it will take you to get there. Hopefully in time to save the day, but I doubt it."  
  
The camera zoomed in for close up of Warren's condescending smile as he reveled in his victory, but his appearance quickly disappeared when Buffy lashed out at the screens spilling them to the ground. Buffy calmed down quickly from the sudden violent outburst when the full impact of Warren's words hit her sending an icy chill running through her spine while sending her running through the basement door and out of the house and into the night to save her loved ones.  
  
* * *  
  
"So where do you think she is," asked Dawn from the door way to the kitchen holding a bowl of popcorn.  
  
"I don't know where Anya is," answered Xander as Dawn seated herself next to Xander on the couch in front of the TV and the starting movie. "I just hope she is okay. I think I may have to accept the fact that she won't be back."  
  
Xander tried not to look so sad and defeated when he said Anya's name but failed miserably, his face making it apparent for the briefest of moments how much he was hurting inside. He tried his hardest to not recognize what he had just said hoping that Dawn wouldn't press him for an explanation. Hoping to ignore the truth that his heart had known, but it had been said and there was no going back.  
  
"What do you mean," Dawn asked even though she had seen the brief conflict in her friend's face. She just could not stop herself from voicing her question hoping to find the truth.  
  
"I don't know who I was kidding when I said I thought we would get together," answered Xander with a sigh, his chin falling to meet his chest. "I think we both know that I screwed this up too bad. I mean I left an ex- vengeance demon at the altar. I was the only guy Anya trusted with her heart and I dropped it. I don't think she is coming back after all of this."  
  
"Hey," said Xander looking up to meet Dawn with a forced smile, "as long as I don't get syphilis or something I'll consider myself pretty lucky."  
  
Dawn's heart went out to the man before her. "You know you don't have to be here if you want to be alone or something," she said, "I think I can handle a movie night by myself."  
  
Xander smiled at the teenager beside him and threw a reassuring arm over her shoulder. "Now what kind of friend would I be if I left now," said Xander with a slightly less forced smile. "Willow is at one of her addicts meeting and Buffy is out on patrol. I can't just leave you here at Slayer central alone now can I?"  
  
"No, really, I can take care of myself," answered Dawn not wanting anyone to feel obligated to be around her.  
  
"Okay I'll accept that," said Xander, "but that doesn't mean I'm leaving. I can't think of anything better right now than a classic 'Dawn and Xander movie night'. It feels good to just sit and relax for a few hours without the threat of demon attack or vengeance."  
  
Of course the fates could not allow such a wonderful straight line delivered by Xander to go without a punch line, so it was at that point that the spell took place creating a swirling unstable portal to form in the Summers' front lawn. Out of the glowing ball of energy spilled a snarling salivating demon that could only be described as a sort of enlarged werewolf.  
  
The movie was interrupted by a powerful slam against the Summers' front door shattering the door into kindling and knocking the barrier off of its hinges. The beast entered quickly behind letting loose with a powerful snort spraying snot and slobber onto the hardwood floor before launching itself forward toward the living room and the two terrified occupants seated on the couch within.  
  
Dawn, who was sitting closest to the door, could not help but stare at the monster that had invaded her home her body tensed every muscle clenching in anticipation for the retreat that was not coming, but her brain could only shout that it was not happening. It could not comprehend that not only was this monster attacking her but that her sister was nowhere in sight.  
  
Dawn stared helplessly as the beast sprang at her with its claws leading the way heading directly for her, but she was literally shaken from her stupor when Xander threw her off of the couch and out of the beast's trajectory. She landed on the hard wood floor and slid on her stomach for a few extra feet slightly bruised but thankful taking a bump instead of a disembowelment.  
  
Xander watched the lupine creature land on the couch and turn to leap at Dawn again, so he acted first by throwing a left hook into the beast's muzzle whipping the head sideways, which elicited a self-satisfied smile. The smile was short lived when the creature leapt for him instead of Dawn, who was slowly orienting herself with her new position on the floor.  
  
"Dawn, run, get help," Xander yelled to her, which caused her to pull herself up to a kneeling position and turn around to find him in a death lock with the hairy beast. He held the creature's wrists trying desperately to keep its claws away from his vulnerable body with his legs curled up beneath him to keep his opponent from getting close enough to rip into him with its powerful jaws and knife like teeth.  
  
"Xander!" Dawn called from her spot on the floor feeling frozen with fear not knowing whether to try and help or to run for help.  
  
"I'm kind of busy right now Dawn," growled Xander through teeth clenched from the exertion of protecting himself. "Do you think you could go get Buffy for me so she can kill this thing? Like now!"  
  
Dawn sprang to her feet to take off for the broken door and the relative safety of the Sunnydale night. Dawn ran past the couch and the death grip happening on top of it her long brunette tresses trailing behind her like a multitude of flowing ribbons.  
  
The beast turned its head to follow Dawn as she made her way for the door taking its eyes off of the construction worker under it. Xander let go of the creature's left claw and swung his fist while lowering his legs to bring the beast's head within striking distance. His knuckle connects with the left eye of the demon causing it to bellow in pain and surprise.  
  
"Stay focused Spot," said Xander; "she isn't snack food. If you want a bite I'm right here!" Xander punctuated the last statement with another right cross to the creature's face, but instead of meeting with flesh and bone demon pulls back allowing the swing to fall short before slamming its jaws down upon Xander's right arm.  
  
Xander cried out in pain but even the sound of his own scream filling his hears could not drown out the sound of his humorous shattering under the intense pressure of the teeth clamped down on his right arm. Xander grabbed at the mouth of his attacker trying hopelessly to pry open the jaws trapping his arm.  
  
Xander worked desperately to free his arm mentally picturing a dog fighting for an old sock shaking its head furiously trying to win possession of the cotton prize. "Please don't let him shake, please don't let him shake," pled Xander silently but his pleas fell upon deaf ears as the demon began to shake its head vehemently breaking the bone further and tearing the flesh open wider. Black spots began to float into Xander's vision promising release from the pain an his mind began to give in to the pain, but he stubbornly held on to consciousness fearing the consequences of giving in far more than the pain currently running rough shod through his brain.  
  
Blood poured from the wound freely entering the demon's mouth and adding to its blood lust motivating the creature to begin tearing into the man's torso covering his dagger like claws with the viscous liquid. Xander switched tactics moving his left thumb up to jab into the eye of the beast, and his efforts were met by the sound of painful grunts that were not his own.  
  
Xander felt the jaws loosen their grip and the teeth disengage from his torn arm, but his elation was short lived because the demon was only trying to find a better grip on the man's tattered arm. His screams would not be silenced when he beast ripped into Xander's flesh tearing open the flesh to drink from the warm blood flowing through the appendage. Xander watched the darkness in front of his eyes expand to cover his entire vision but before he was silenced by unconsciousness he heard several other screams mix with his own, but he was too far gone to comprehend their meaning.  
  
* * *  
  
Buffy ran through the night at top speed hoping with all of her furiously pumping heart that she would not be too late. Buffy spotted Dawn running down the street thoroughly exhausted from sprinting for so long at about the same time that the teen spotted her causing the two to shout the other's name at the same time and rush to meet the other.  
  
"Dawn are you alright," asked Buffy, grabbing her crying sister by the shoulders and inspecting her for injuries.  
  
Dawn slumped into Buffy's arms weeping and gasping for breath letting her big sister support her tired body. "Xander…trouble…help…demon," Dawn managed to get out between sobs and gasps of air.  
  
It took Buffy a second to decipher the halting message and realize that the danger was far from over. Buffy pulled Dawn away from her to look her sister in the eye and said, "Stay safe, I've got to save him."  
  
Buffy barely stayed long enough to see her sister nod in understanding before once again running toward her home. Fences and mailboxes blurred due partially to the speed of her sprint but mainly because of the tears pooling inside of her blue-green eyes and streaking across her face to be absorbed by her blonde hair.  
  
The last hundred yards were the longest she could recall being able hear the screams from inside but not help drew out each second into several torturous lifetimes. Finally Buffy reached her broken down door only slowing long enough to pick up a long wicked looking shard of her front door.  
  
Buffy turned the corned mentally prepared for the worst, but her worst could not compare to the actual scene that greeted her eyes and shattered her heart. With a cry of primal fury Buffy jumped forward and drove the long stake-esque weapon into the back of the demon's neck puncturing the skin and severing the spinal column connected to the brain and the trachea spelling death for the attacking beast.  
  
The demon fell onto the couch and evaporated into the air leaving no evidence of it's existence aside from the carnage reeked upon the Summer's residence and one Xander Harris.  
  
Buffy rushed to her friend to hoping for the best and placed her fingers to his neck and almost bursts into tears again when a pulse, a weak unstable one, but a pulse greeted her touch.  
  
Buffy moved to find the phone that had been knocked off of the end table hoping desperately to find a dial tone. Luck was with the Slayer because she was able to call forth a dial tone and then 911 from the battered piece of machinery.  
  
"Hello, this is Buffy Summers at 1630 Revello Drive," said Buffy frantically as soon as she hears an answer from the other side. "I need an ambulance right away. My friend has been attacked and his pulse is weak and he has lost a lot of blood."  
  
"Stay calm and remain on the line ma'am," said the voice from the telephone. "An ambulance will arrive shortly. I need you to put pressure on the wound to slow the bleeding and stay calm until the paramedics arrive."  
  
Buffy put the phone down and grabbed a blanket from the hall closet. A quick yank ripped the blanket into usable sizes leaving enough to wrap around Xander's torso and wrap around his almost nonexistent arm. Buffy held her friend tightly rocking back and forth, trying to draw comfort from her friend's unconscious body, until the paramedics came arrived and pulled her away. She watched them work furiously to stabilize Xander's condition enough for transport before loading him on to a stretcher and into the ambulance.  
  
Buffy climbed in to the ambulance as well and stared at her friend's ashen face searching desperately for a sign of life, but she was only met with silence and desolation. Buffy watched Xander breath; her entire world reduced to the subtle rise and fall of his chest with the ambulance's siren's keening her sorrow to the night echoing through the quiet streets and resounding inside her shattered psyche.  
  
End of Chapter 1  
  
* * * 


	2. Chapter 2

Phantom Pains  
  
Author: JimboS  
  
E-mail: RaistlinM1@aol.com  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters used in this story only the plot is mine, and even that is pretty basic.  
  
Author's note: I hope you enjoy the story. It has been brewing in my head for a while now and after the last episode the plot finally came together for me. So here it is. Enjoy and since this is my first try at true angst let me know what you think of it.  
  
Dedication: MJ, I appreciate you to no end. I thank you so much for taking time out to look over this for me.  
  
* * *  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Buffy sat in a formed plastic chair with steel legs and armrests inside the open waiting area of the Sunnydale hospital. The entire area was cold and sterile as if the hospital itself was loath to declare itself a place of life or death preferring to remain neutral, clean, and dull. The hospital waiting area was filled with the sounds of lives begun, lives saved, and lives lost threaded together to create a complex tapestry depicting the mystery of life.  
  
Buffy had called home, hoping that Dawn was there to pick up, upon her arrival after being stopped at the door to the emergency room and ushered to the waiting room. Dawn picked up the phone before the first ring could finish much to Buffy's relief. The last thing she needed was to worry about Dawn being attacked on her way home. It took close to ten minutes to convince Dawn not to take the car and drive down to the hospital herself and wait for Willow to get home although Buffy did not envy that job.  
  
After getting off the phone Buffy sat down in the waiting room emotionally and now mentally exhausted. Buffy fell with in herself too tired to notice the outside world or bring herself to care about it. Doctors and nurses moved in front of the waiting area on their way parts unknown while a slow trickle of emergency cases were rushed through the large sliding glass doors leading outside, but Buffy was too preoccupied to notice. The people were only ghostly apparitions sliding in and out of her vision incorporeal and intangible. All that was real, all that she cared about at the moment was a man a hundred feet away being worked on furiously by doctors and nurses trying to save his life and coincidentally Buffy's soul.  
  
Buffy tried to stop herself, but her thought continually returned to her life with Xander and how empty that life would be without him. The thought of never seeing his smile again, never hearing on of his random thoughts again, and never having around to talk to again sent a chill through her body that started in her spine and ended in her heart. After being numb for so long the fact that she when she finally felt something it turned out to be so chilling and yet painful real was bitter sweet.  
  
Small tears pooled in her eyes reflecting and distorting their blue-green hue giving them the look of a sparkling sea, and although she willed the tears to remain where they were she could not stop them from spilling over tracing thin lines down her face. Buffy felt the twin tears roll down her face leaving behind a trail wetness on her cheeks but made no move to wipe them away; instead she just watched the drops of salt-water fall from her chin to land on her pants to be soaked up by the awaiting cloth.  
  
When it rains it pours and teardrops never travel alone. That was what Buffy learned as she felt more tears rolled down her face traveling on the trail blazed before them only to meet the same fate as their absorbed brethren. "This can't be happening. Please just let him be okay," she whispered through her falling tears unwilling and unable to stop the flow of her personified fear and sorrow that continued to spill from her eyes. Gradually the flow of tears began to slow until it had stopped entirely leaving thin red lines in its wake.  
  
Buffy looked up at the sound of the glass doors sliding open to find Willow and Dawn approaching quickly their faces a mix of hope a dread. "Is there any news," Willow asked hopefully.  
  
"No," Buffy answered shaking her head, "I don't know how long I've been sitting here, but they haven't come out yet."  
  
Willow and Dawns face fell both unsure what was worse, bad news or no news. Willow and Dawn took their places on either side of Buffy; they wrapped their arms around each other sharing their strength through the physical contact.  
  
"He'll be alright," Dawn said hopefully. She was not sure exactly whom she was trying to convince with her prediction of the future.  
  
"Of course he will," said Willow taking up the torch of hope trying fervently from letting it be smothered by the oppressive darkness of despair. "I bet he'll be back to normal in no time at all. I mean after all this time on the Hellmouth it just wouldn't be right for a demon to get him."  
  
Willow's lips began to quiver as she spoke the last few words while tears began to gather in her eyes. Dawn watched Willow slowly lose the battle with her seditious eyes and discerned the faint lines on her sister's face left from her weeping. The situation was too much for the vulnerable teen, and she to began to cry. Buffy only answered by pulling her friend and sister closer to her allowing them to cry on her shoulder while being thankful that she had cried before and was able to offer her friends the strength they craved.  
  
The three remained fixed in the uncomfortable hospital chairs except for the quiet sobs shaking their slight form unwilling to break the embrace and the comfort it offered. Inside the embrace there was no individual and therefore there was no weakness or pain to be owned only shared and diluted among the other participants they stayed together like a sculpture depicting the blending of pain and comfort and as a monument to their fallen friend.  
  
This was how the doctor found them still wrapped together the tears had long since ceased to flow yet they remained. The doctor cleared his throat softly loathed to violate the obviously private moment yet it was part of his job, but the doctor received no response his quiet intrusion.  
  
"Um excuse me," said the doctor in a practiced fatherly tone consciously keeping his voice smooth and calm, "are you here with Alexander Harris?" The question's effect was immediate causing Willow and Dawn to pull away from Buffy almost simultaneously allowing themselves to see the owner of the voice that offered them soul cleansing relief and heart breaking sorrow in the same breath.  
  
"Yes we are, is he okay," asked Buffy, her voice wavering. Buffy almost wished she had not asked the question; she was afraid of hearing the doctor voice the reality that had been plaguing her heart and mind ever since she stepped into the ambulance. She contemplated running and preserving the small shred of hope that she held in her heart, but she also knew that not knowing would torture her for an eternity never allowing her to accept always forcing itself into her thoughts. So Buffy sat in front of the doctor solemn and determined mentally preparing herself for the worse.  
  
"Mr. Harris was taken up to surgery to try and stabilize his condition," said the doctor, "He lost quite a bit of blood, but we were able to stabilize him and he is alive and in intensive care." The doctor smiled warmly at the three matching sighs of relief matched by the sudden smiles that splayed across their faces along with the sudden change in posture as the girls sat up straighter like a tremendous weight had been lifted from their shoulders.  
  
The smile vanished as quickly as it appeared to be replaced by the solemn line that was carefully conceived to be neither a smile nor a frown. "Alexander appears to have been attacked by a large wild dog that caused many laceration on his torso and did extensive damage to his right arm. Alexander's Humorous was shattered into at least ten pieces as near as we could tell and the damage to the nerves and tissue in his biceps and triceps was not repairable."  
  
"What are you telling us doctor," asked Willow while grasping Buffy's hand for support, both taking and giving trying to be strong while feeling weak.  
  
"I'm saying that Mr. Harris' arm was beyond repair and was threatening to bleed him dry, so we were forced to amputate at the shoulder," answered the doctor in grave voice that showed no signs of his previous practiced warmth.  
  
"No," whispered Buffy to herself not sure what exactly she was refuting with the simple word whether it was the knowledge that her friend had lost his entire livelihood or the voice inside herself that asked which was worse losing a life or a reason to live. Buffy mechanically wrapped her arm around Dawn, who once was burrowing into her sister's side once again hoping to find the protection and comfort that she could not find in the white sterile halls of the hospital.  
  
"No," Buffy whispered again trying to stop her thoughts from carrying her away in a flood of guilt and self-doubt. She stopped herself from wondering if Xander would still have an arm if she had been a few minutes faster, if she had not stopped for Dawn, or if she had just not gone out at all.  
  
"Can we see him," asked Willow while holding Buffy's hand like a vice. As much as Willow wanted to stand up straight and tall in the face of the emotional storm that buffeted her psyche from all sides she could not sustain her strength against the tide of sorrow that washed away her resolve.  
  
"I would have to say that Xander needs his rest," said the doctor, who watched the three girls' faces harden with newfound resolve against the perceived obstacle to seeing their friend. "But after seeing the looks on your faces I would say that you don't look like the 'go home, get some sleep, and come back in the morning' kind of women," he finished with a laugh.  
  
* * *  
  
The small hospital room was dimly lit with only a few fluorescent lights illuminating the room while filling it with a constant dull hum. A thin rectangle of white light spilled onto the white tile floor from the small window in the door. A small bed with a steel frame stands with its head against the wall with a cushioned chair on one side and a plethora of expensive and complex machines that add to the background noise provided by the lights with a myriad of beeps and hums.  
  
Clean white cotton sheets enshrouded the form of a man unconscious in the uncomfortable cot. A soft emerald glow emanated from the monitors keeping watch over the young man tainting the sterile white of the room with an unnatural green. The subtle green splashed across the resting man's ashen face causing dark shadows to form around his eyes while discoloring the bruises and scrapes that were strewn across his face giving the already weak man a diseased and sallow complexion.  
  
The room's door swung open silently allowing the white light from the hall to pour into the room and blaze a trail across the tile floor to land on the form of the sleeping man filling in the shadows across his face and dispelling the ghastly glow. The man's eyes shifted and blinked under their heavy lids trying to adjust to the sudden change.  
  
The shadow of the doctor blocked the light coming in from the doorway giving the sleeping man a brief respite but allowed the doctor to witness the ailing look of the man caused by the monitors. The doctor flicked the light switch on the wall beside him not wanting the three girls behind him to see the haunting sight causing the man to shift slightly away from the new light.  
  
The doctor stepped to the side allowing entrance for the trailing girls. The three tread carefully into the room like deer entering a clearing keeping close together with their heads tilted upward and their bodies tensed in anticipation. Collectively they kept their eyes moving across the room searching for something to look at beside the bed and its occupant not wanting to be the first to witness their friend in his current state, but they could find nothing on the plain white walls to hold their gaze.  
  
"Oh God, Xander," whispered Dawn when her eyes finally fell to the bed and the man wrapped within. Xander's sheet had slipped down when he moved to reveal his right shoulder was wrapped in several layers of gauze and bandages that ended too abruptly for the young girl to handle.  
  
Dawn turned away from the sight and into the chest of the closest person available, who happened to be Willow who wrapped the teenager in a tight embrace while all the while staring at the body of her life long friend.  
  
Buffy walked stiffly toward the bed watching the face of her friend not wanting to see the missing limb not wanting to comprehend what the bandages meant, and not wanting to think of what would have happened if she had been five minutes faster or worse five minutes later.  
  
Instead she just stared at Xander's face searching for something to prove that the man lying before her was not her Xander that it was all a mistake. She desperately wanted to find out that the real Xander was lying in another room somewhere perfectly fine and waiting to see his friends, but she knew it was him she had seen that familiar face too often to not be sure.  
  
Buffy was sure that it was Xander's body but she needed more. She needed to know that when he finally woke up he would be the same Xander she had always known, but the longer she looks the less of her Xander she finds. All she could see was an incomplete facsimile of her friend because while his features were the same they seemed foreign and strange in their static state.  
  
Buffy leaned in close and ran her fingers across Xander's forehead pushing his dark bangs away from his face allowing her to search closer, but everywhere she looked something was wrong. His mouth was drawn into a long thin line instead of its customary curve and crooked grin, his eyes were veiled by heavy lids covering his warm chocolate orbs that always seemed to smile all on their own, and most important his left arm rested against his side looking bizarre and alone without its companion. Its companion that was Xander's entire life was gone, and she had no idea how to make it better.  
  
Buffy entwined her fingers with his holding it against her cheek trying to find comfort in the touch. When she pulled it away she was surprised to find it wet with tears she did not know she had started to shed that was when she felt a hand on her shoulder.  
  
Buffy looked up to find Willow standing over her crying with Dawn clutching her like a drowning victim drawing strength from Willow to be able to look at Xander without losing her nerve. Buffy touched Willow's hand and looked into her friend's eyes. Buffy saw her fears reflected back at her, but she could also see that Willow was on the brink of losing her carefully crafted composure.  
  
"Willow," Buffy said softly, can you take Dawn home for me? I don't think that this is the best place for her right now."  
  
Willow and Dawn both made moves to try and argue but their eyes once again fell to the missing limb and their objections died in their throats. Willow just nodded and squeezed Buffy's shoulder while Dawn just nodded and turned away her gaze unfocused as she tried to comprehend Xander's situation but coming up short.  
  
Buffy watched them leave and hoped that they would be able to find rest but knowing that they would not. Buffy then noticed the doctor standing at the door, and their eyes locked; Buffy's gaze told him that visiting hours would not apply. He slowly nodded and left closing the door on his way out.  
  
Buffy kept her fingers entwined with Xander's and slowly brought her head to rest against his chest listening to the beating of his heart finding more comfort in that than the synthetic beeps coming from the machine across from her. The beats soothed her more than any lullaby could have and sleep slowly claimed her gently pulling her away from her pain and into a world where all could be right and good at least until the morning came.  
  
End of Chapter 2  
  
* * * 


	3. Chapter 3

Phantom Pains  
  
Author: JimboS  
  
E-mail: RaistlinM1@aol.com  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters used in this story only the plot is mine, and even that is pretty basic.  
  
Author's note: I hope you enjoy the story. It has been brewing in my head for a while now and after the last episode the plot finally came together for me. So here it is. Enjoy and since this is my first try at true angst let me know what you think of it.  
  
Author's Note 2: I want to thank Ray for helping me so much with this chapter. Anyone who hasn't read his stuff should. http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=79383.  
  
Author's Note 3: I also want to thank everyone who has reviewed this story and those who have asked me for more. It really helps me write when I know there are people who actually want to read it.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Buffy felt warmth on her cheek as droplets of sunlight streamed through holes in the blinds hanging from the large hospital window to caress her soft skin. The warmth tickled her face, as if the day itself was quietly asking for the joy of her company. She slowly brought her hands outward, extending her arms and then slowly moving them forward, smoothing out the wrinkled sheets before entwining her fingers together and pushing her palms outward above her head.  
  
Buffy sat up and shifted her body from side to side, aligning her spine with a series of gratifying snaps and pops, all the while, keeping her eyes closed trying to put off starting her day until the last possible second. She untangled her fingers and laid her hands to rest on the cool, white, cotton sheets, as she mentally prepared herself to face the day.  
  
Buffy's hands absently stroked the fabric as her mind turned a problem over in her head. Something did not feel right. Something was missing. Her eyes snapped open and her lazy caress ceased when she finally figured out what was missing.  
  
"Xander!"  
  
The young man was gone, leaving only wrinkles and a depressed mattress behind. Buffy rose from her seat and quickly surveyed the room in vain, finding no trace of her friend. She made her way to the door trying to remain calm, telling herself that he was probably just moved while she was asleep and the doctors decided not to wake her. Although the fact that she had not woken up had her puzzled to say the least seeing as how she fell asleep on his chest.  
  
Buffy immediately moved past puzzled, past confused, and landed at confounded when she opened the door to see a lively green forest littered with brown, dead leaves instead of the sterile hospital hall way. The leaves that littered the forest floor were wet and matted down with bright green leaves scattered amongst them standing out in stark relief against the drab, decomposing carpet. Droplets of water fell periodically as small streams ran down the deep brown branches to meet with other tributaries before falling off the ends of the broad green leaves. A thin mist swirled across the forest floor as the day's rain evaporated and was trapped by the cool air.  
  
Buffy quickly recovered from her initial shock at finding a forest outside her door and comfortably fell into the slayer mindset. It was almost a comfort to have a 'reasonable' explanation for her friend's disappearance, not to mention the simple, straightforward solution that normally came with solving these types of problems. Basically, she was going to chop, slice, beat, smash, behead, kill, and destroy until she found her friend and rescued him.  
  
It was enough to make Buffy smile as she walked through the damp forest in search of her friend and the demon responsible for his disappearance. The thin fog curled around Buffy's feet, and as she slowly stalked through the forest, her senses stretched outward scouring the area for any sign of danger.  
  
She continued to walk through the forest, finding no signs of life, besides the singing of birds and the buzzing of insects, until a path appeared under her feet. Appeared was definitely the word Buffy would use because, when she noticed it, she looked back to find that the path stretched behind her as far as she could see.  
  
Buffy picked up her pace and smiled broadly once again as she thought with anticipation of what she would do when she found the thing responsible for taking away her Xander; maybe thanking it for giving her a path right to him, before touching its ears together the hard way. Her inner musings were disrupted by a rustling of leaves coming from the bend in the path. The noise was not the subtle whisper caused by the wind stirring the undergrowth; it was too loud and too jarring to not be caused by another being, and in Buffy's experience that meant trouble.  
  
Buffy slowly walked toward the bend in the trail cautiously yet calmly. Using what Xander affectionately termed Slayer Psychology, she figured that any trap that she saw coming was not really a trap at all, but she was not prepared for what she saw when she turned the corner.  
  
"Willow?"  
  
The red head did not acknowledge Buffy's call. She was too busy pawing through the underbrush along side the trail with fervor, like a starved hound searching for a scrap of meat that it could smell but not see. Willow's red hair wildly framed her face like a lion's mane, her long sleeved shirt and pants were stained with mud and hung heavily on her petite form, and her make up ran down her face in pink and blank streaks.  
  
"Willow, what are you doing?" asked Buffy, as she approached her friend.  
  
"No time, must find it, must help him, can't help him until I find it," mumbled Willow as she continued her work.  
  
"Willow, what are you looking for?"  
  
Willow continued her diligent digging amid the dead forest flotsam and replied, "I already told you; I'm looking for it."  
  
Buffy was taken back by her friend's answer and came to the conclusion that Willow was not quite Willow right now. Of course, with the strangeness that was her life, the answers could range anywhere from demonic possession to a brain suck to. well, demonic possession.  
  
"Why are you looking for. it?" asked Buffy hoping to find out what had caused her friends bizarre behavior.  
  
"I have to find it or else I won't be able to help him," answered Willow, before she turned and began to burrow into the other side of the trail.  
  
"Him? Are you trying to help Xander? Well what exactly is it?"  
  
Willow paused in her work to fix Buffy with a purely condescending look and answered in a patronizing tone, "If I knew what it was, I would have already found it."  
  
Willow gave a disgusted sigh and returned to searching through the undergrowth, pausing every few seconds to shake away the dead wet leaves that had stuck to her hands and clear away some of the thin fog that continued to hug the ground, while Buffy watched her friend toil in confusion. She knew that her friend was telling her something important, but she could not figure out what it was. It was like putting together a puzzle without a picture and not being sure if she had all of the pieces.  
  
"If you don't know where it is, then how do you know if you are even looking in the right place?"  
  
Willow froze in the middle of her work and remained still for several seconds before she moved her head from side to side and inspected her surroundings. After a visual exploration Willow stood up slowly and faced Buffy, and wiped her face with her shirtsleeve removing her washed out make up, but at the same time smearing her cheeks with mud.  
  
"You're right," Willow said matter-of-factly. "In fact, I don't think I can find it here. I must be going."  
  
Before Buffy could react, the red head had taken off into the woods. She tried to move to follow her, but she could not find any trace of her friend. Either she had vanished or the forest had moved to conceal her; neither option appealed to her in particularly.  
  
Buffy stood in the middle of the trail, torn between going after Willow into the forest or continuing on the trail toward Xander and the promise of decapitating the thing responsible from taking him from her. The promise of carnage and the worry of what might be happening to Xander forced her to continue down the trail.  
  
Thoughts of Xander kept going through her head as she continued down the trail, pictures of him being tortured and beaten, battered and bloodied; his screams echoing through her mind, flooding every cavern and crevasse.  
  
Buffy ran down the path in the hopes of arriving in time to save her friend from the imagined atrocities that he was undergoing. Beams of light streamed through the canopy hitting her face and lulling her mind into a hypnotic state; her eyes darted from side to side as they followed the dancing lights as she passed them.  
  
Suddenly the canopy opened to reveal the sun in all of its brilliant glory blinding the slayer. She dug her heels into the ground to stop her forward momentum, and panicked when she heard the crackle of gravel under her feet, until she finally grinded to a halt.  
  
Buffy froze until her eyes adjusted to the brightness around her. When they finally did she could not stop the yelp that escaped her lips when she saw the open expanse that greeted her from below the edge of a cliff mere inches from her toes.  
  
Once the vertigo from being confronted with such heights so suddenly passed; Buffy took in the scenery below her. The cliff edge did not run straight outward; instead, it curved, running outward to form a thin crescent. Below the cliff, nestled within its arms, was a large dusty circle with a perimeter of large flat stones and three crumbling columns, making a large triangle within. A lone figure stood within the center of the triangle hunched over and dressed in rags that fluttered in the soft yet constant wind. The sight of the figure elicited an immediate response from the slayer.  
  
"Shit!"  
  
A myriad of thoughts swept through Buffy's mind upon recognition of the First Slayer; one of which stood out above all others.  
  
"All of this for a stupid dream!"  
  
She had met the First Slayer enough times to know that the only time they would meet was conditional upon Buffy's loss of consciousness. However, upon closer examination, the First Slayer, the embodiment of the Slayer spirit, did not seem right; she looked off.  
  
Then it hit her like a wrecking ball: the First Slayer was white; or rather, she was not supposed to be. Nevertheless, the layers of dried mud could not disguise the uncharacteristically pale skin and blonde hair. Upon closer examination, while the First Slayer did not look right, she did look familiar.  
  
The strong yet thin arms, the smooth skin, and the white teeth. the dark roots?  
  
Before Buffy could contemplate the physics of being in two places at once, the problem was solved for her, for she was suddenly standing in the circle sharpening her dagger. The surprising change in perspective caused her hand to slip, sending the jagged stone dagger slicing across her palm, drawing a line of blood.  
  
She grabbed her wrist and stared at her hand as the blood welled up from the cut. It pooled within the ridge of skin created by the knife, before spilling out to drip onto the dusty earth. Her eyes followed the first drop's descent, inexplicably fascinated by the sight.  
  
"Fancy that, you've started without me."  
  
Buffy jumped slightly, coming down into a fighting stance, startled by the smooth, accented voice. Spike stood in front of her under the gaze of the unblinking sun, smirking like he was enjoying a private joke.  
  
"What are you doing here?" asked Buffy as she dropped her defenses slightly, but still not able to overcome her instincts enough to relax entirely.  
  
"What do you mean?" answered Spike with a question as he sized her up, like a wolf on the prowl. He opened his arms, letting his long coat stretch out like black wings and looked up at the blazing sun. "You know I would never miss a slayer's blood being spilt. Besides, I figured I would catch up on my tan, got to blend in you know."  
  
Spike brought his arms down and began to circle the slayer, who stood still at ridged attention, not wanting the vampire to know he unnerved her. He stopped in front of her and, tilting his head to the side, smirked again at the sight before him, "You know all about that love, don't you." He said as he took her bleeding hand into his own. "Blending in."  
  
Buffy quickly turned away, pulling her hand away, at that last comment. She wiped her hand on her hip, spreading her blood across her already soiled rags. She became aware of his burning stare taking in her body, feeling his stare crawl across her skin, like his cold hands did at one time.  
  
"I don't have to blend in, I am in, I belong." she said turning around to stare at him.  
  
"Now, now, no need to deny it, " said Spike in a soothing tone, taking a step forward to capture her hand again. "You can't say that we didn't work well together; we were one and the same, moving together in harmony, dancing. Don't you miss it? The dancing?"  
  
Buffy stood quietly her shoulders tensed and her back tensed and knotted, not trusting herself to not go to the man standing in front of her. Her heart denies his words completely, remembering the way he made her feel, like something hurt, something broken, something dead. Yet her mind cannot help but tell her that at least she was feeling something besides emptiness, which is not a feeling at all.  
  
"We never danced, we just went through the motions."  
  
"You don't believe that, we danced and we were good, we felt good," he said imploringly, his eyes meeting hers, searching for a spark of recognition.  
  
"I never felt it."  
  
"You must have felt something."  
  
"Yeah, something," said Buffy looking at the hand he held and the blood staining her hip.  
  
Spike smirked again as he moved his other hand around her hip, "How about a dance for old times sake?"  
  
"We can't dance, there's no music."  
  
Spike just lifted a finger and shook it back and forth and then pointed to his left. Buffy followed his finger to find an orchestra set up on the rocks dressed in tuxedoes.  
  
"If you want music, I give you music," said Spike as he grabbed her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist.  
  
The band began to play a sensual tango as the duo moved across the ground, kicking up dust wherever they stepped. The music slowly rose in tempo, with the bass drum growing in prominence while the dance became more graceful and physically demanding. Buffy began to feel her hand and waist grow hot. Wherever her body came into contact with Spike's touch she felt a burning fever.  
  
The music began to change as the dance moved on, becoming more tribal in nature, with the drums banging louder and the horns falling away to be replaced by chanting, until he sent Buffy spinning outward as part of the dance and the music stopped, leaving only the echo of the drum bouncing off of the cliff walls.  
  
She watched his smirk turn into a feral smile; his teeth gleamed in the sun, but he did not move to continue the dance, though she could still feel the energy in the air, telling her to continue, that it was not concluded. She continued to watch as Spike's head fell and his shoulders began to shake slightly, and moved to comfort him when she heard his quiet sobs. However, she stopped when the sobs grew louder, and she discovered that he was laughing.  
  
Spike lifted his head and stared at Buffy, as his laughter became hysterical, trilling up the scale and then down again. The laughter was so wrong, so perverted, and so happily insane that it chilled the slayer to her soul, echoing in her chest and clasping her rapidly beating heart.  
  
His face no longer held any familiarity, stretched and pulled as it was by his hideous smile. Slowly his face began to change form entirely; his bleach blonde hair grew longer and spread down his face framing his smiling mouth and wild eyes. His mouth began to narrow and protrude outward, merging with his nose that became extended and blunt forming a muzzle, while his eyes became almond shaped and sunk inward.  
  
His body, which normally looked thin and malnourished, started to expand and grow, his arms thickened and elongated, while his legs inflated and bent, his muscles coiled tightly like a spring constantly ready to release. His chest expanded to several times its size and his spine straightened slightly causing him to hunch forward.  
  
Buffy looked on in horror as the metamorphosis continued and the final stage of the change became apparent. Standing before her was the beast that had imprinted itself in her mind as something to hate and destroy above all cost. It was the wolf monster that had attacked Xander, except its coat was the same shade of bleached blonde as the vampire that it had taken the place of. Its sick laughter had continued through the transformation, only stopping when the change was completed.  
  
"Come now slayer, the dance isn't over yet," the beast said with a slight lisp, as the air whistled through his rows of razor sharp, yellowed teeth.  
  
Taking that as their cue, the band began again with the same primal beating and singing that filled the air before, with the monster adding his own roar, as he flung himself toward the slayer.  
  
Buffy tightened her grip on the stone knife and lunged toward the beast as well. She watched the long arms swing toward her, ready to rake across her body and end the fight quickly. With a quick change in direction, she moved to the creature's right side, ducking the wide arm and swiping at the appendage with the knife hoping to sever the wrist tendons. To her surprise, the beast pivoted to his side and swatted the slayer as she passed, drawing long, angry lines across her back.  
  
"Really slayer, are you even trying?" asked the beast in the same condescending tone that Spike used only muddled by his misshapen mouth.  
  
Buffy watched the beast with a growing sense of dread, realizing that it was not really a beast, but Spike in the beasts form, possessing all of Spikes cunning and guile along with the monster's strength and speed. Not to mention claws, she reminded herself mentally when she placed her hand against the gashes on her back.  
  
However, she could not shake the image of the animal hunched over Xander, reaching with its muzzle for his soft neck. One death was not good enough for the vengeful slayer, and so she launched herself at the demon.  
  
The beast only gave her a lupine smile and moved to bat away the slayer with a strong swipe. The arm swung around, ready to smash into the side of Buffy's head blind siding her and causing severe damage.  
  
Using her heightened speed and senses, the young woman ducked the potentially devastating blow and lunged forward to puncture the beast's thick hide and bury the knife in his side. The beast lifted its great head and roared its pain to the sky and then brought its arm back around to backhand the dangerous slayer, but Buffy was no longer there.  
  
Instead, she utilized the jagged sides of the knife by ripping it out of the beast, tearing away a large portion of flesh before moving to get behind the monster. She crouched as she watched the beast swing at her previous position and then allowed its momentum to turn itself around to face her. Its arm swung easily over her head and she moved forward to strike again.  
  
However, Spike moved quicker. He let his momentum play out and bring his body forward to tackle the crouched slayer. Two feet planted themselves into his, gut pulling on the grisly wound in his side, as Buffy went down and curled up to allow herself to poll with her attacker's force. The slayer drove her legs upward when she rolled up to her shoulders, sending the lupine monster flying over her head.  
  
So the battle continued with each combatant attacking and counterattacking, trading minor wounds and inflicting pain, but through it all Buffy continued to hear the music in the back of her mind. The music pervaded the battle, keeping time with each punch, kick, and rake. It was like the music was dictating the fight itself, as if she was locked into an inescapable pattern.  
  
The pattern became more prominent as the slayer focused upon it more, moving with the music, but, at the same time, distancing herself from it, until the music reached a crescendo and the moment to strike became apparent. The lycanthropic Spike lunged forward to attach his powerful jaws to her vulnerable throat over extending his reach while trying for the finishing blow.  
  
Grasping the stone knife underhand, and then, with both hands providing strength, Buffy fell backward along with the lunging beast, lining up the tip of the blade with the demon's throat and letting the impact of the fall drive it forward. Warm blood washed over the knife and onto her clenched fists as the life poured from the demon and the music ceased.  
  
She wiggled out from under the heavy carcass of the beast and wiped away the blood on her hands and arms in the bleached pelt. She left the knife buried under the demon unwilling to retrieve it.  
  
With the fight finished and the job done, Buffy looked around to find any sign of Xander. She did not know why she felt the need to continue searching, it was only a dream, but she could not leave without knowing his fate, and she could not help thinking that she needed to find her Xander before she would wake up.  
  
She looked to the sky and surveyed the cliffs, looking for any sign of what was to happen next. The sun had begun to fall during the battle and the shadows of the surrounding cliff fell on the dusty, earth leaving her in shadow with only a column of light reaching into the alcove from the open passage.  
  
A shadow fell across the pillar of light at Buffy's feet, taking an all too familiar form. Xander stood at the alcove's mouth dressed in the white hospital gown that was now a pale yellow from the dust picked up by the steady breeze.  
  
Buffy covered the distance between them at a sprint, barely slowing down enough to keep from knocking him over when she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. Buffy pulled away from the embrace to look into her friend's face and smiled at the sight of the familiar grin that she had known since high school.  
  
"Thank God, you're okay. I thought that something horrible had happened to you."  
  
"Nothing's gonna happen to me while you're around to keep me out of trouble," replied Xander while stroking her back softly with his callused hands.  
  
"Xander, where were you?"  
  
"I had to find myself, apparently I was misplaced," he responded in a joking tone of voice.  
  
"And where did you find yourself, you know, in case I have to find you next time," asked Buffy picking up on the light-hearted conversation.  
  
Xander's smile tightened slightly and his right hand fell away from her before he responded again, "I'm never going back there again, I can't, I found me and I never want to go back."  
  
His smile was still familiar and quintessential Xander, yet his eyes were no longer right. Seconds before they were a deep and warm chocolate, holding love and caring, no matter how many times they sparkled with laughter or ran with tears, but now they held nothing at all. They were now opaque, lifeless pools of brown so dark they bordered on black, taking in from the world yet giving nothing, reflecting what they saw with a cold exactness. Buffy's chest tightened and her throat constricted at the sight of his lifeless look, but it did not last for long; instead his gaze moved to his right arm and the wall fell away revealing all encompassing horror and pain.  
  
She looked at the object of Xander's gaze to find his arm twisting and writhing, large cuts and gouges appearing all over the forearm and the portion of the bicep that was uncovered by the hospital gown. Her eyes mirrored his as she continued to stare at the horrifying appendage. She could even feel the pain, but in her chest, feeling each convulsion and laceration keenly. With a great scream that poured from his throat and echoed throughout the alcove, he fell to the ground. His arm disintegrated and was carried off by the constant wind.  
  
Buffy heard his scream seconds before her own poured from her chest and burned hotly through her throat to flood out of her mouth and join her friends. The pain was too much and her vision swam in front of her, but she clearly saw Xander fall and her pain only increased.  
  
* * *  
  
Buffy sat up with a shout and felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked behind her prepared to be kicked out by a concerned nurse or doctor, but she found none.  
  
"Relax, Buffy, I'm awake, there's no need to shout," said a raspy voice from the bed.  
  
She saw his eyes open and hold the same loving look that was missing in her dream and began to cry. The feelings were just too much, so relieved to see him awake, so happy to see him not looking like his dream self, and so scared that what she saw would happen, it was all too much for her to hold in and it all spilled out in her burning tears.  
  
She buried her face in his chest, letting his white gown catch her liquid emotions while he ran his left hand through her soft blonde hair. It felt good to feel him and reassure herself that it was all just a dream, until she heard the question that she had hoped would never come.  
  
"Buffy, why can't I move my arm?"  
  
End of Chapter 3 


	4. Chapter 4

Phantom Pains  
  
Author: JimboS  
  
E-mail: RaistlinM1@aol.com  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters used in this story only the plot is mine, and even that is pretty basic.  
  
Author's note: Takes place after Normal Again in season 6. I'm not sure if I'm going to use some of season 6 plot in the rest, I really didn't care for the season in general.  
  
Author's Note 2: I want to thank Ray for helping me so much with this chapter. Anyone who hasn't read his stuff should. http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=79383.  
  
Author's Note 3: I also want to thank everyone who has reviewed this story and those who have asked me for more. It really helps me write when I know there are people who actually want to read it.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Buffy could only recall one other time that she felt so horribly scared since coming to Sunnydale so long ago; when she was told of her prophecy to be killed at the hands of the Master. It was the only time there had been no hope of victory, no alternative she could find. In her mind it had already happened. However there was an alternative ending, she had been saved from her grim fate, but that was not going to happen now. Her angel of mercy was now lying before her as her bringer of death, there could be no escape; it really was inevitable. So she did the same thing she had done the last time she was left with no hope. She ran.  
  
"You need to see a doctor," she exclaimed as she jumped out of her chair and backed out of the room as quickly as possible while trying to actually not look like she was running away.  
  
Of course the fact that Xander could hear the fast paced beating of her high-heeled boots striking the linoleum tiled floor as soon as she cleared the door frame did not instill him with a sense of well being. The heavy dose of sedative slowly trickled through the IV and into the crippled man's bloodstream muddling his mental faculties and disrupting his physical coordination, making his body feel like lead and his eyelids impossible to keep open. Slowly Xander slipped into a dreamless sleep as his body gave in to the pull of the soothing narcotic, taking away his pain and his worries.  
  
* * *  
  
Buffy came to a grinding halt in front of the nurse's station, grabbing the enamel and particleboard counter to keep her momentum from carrying her into pediatrics, startling Sarah Walken, the elderly woman sitting at the desk arranging the patient files.  
  
"It's Xander, he needs a doctor," she exclaimed before she came to a complete stop.  
  
"What's wrong," asked the agitated nurse, "is he bleeding again?"  
  
"No, he's awake, and he's asking about his arm, and he doesn't have one, but he thinks he does, but I know he doesn't, and so do the doctors, so he needs a doctor."  
  
"Calm down, sweetie," said Sarah in a softer tone and with her best comforting smile while taking her finger away from the emergency button. It was not too difficult to figure out what had the girl in front of her so riled, doctors go to classes to work on their bedside manner, and here this girl had to tell her friend that he was crippled. It really was a shame to see such a tragedy befall such a nice couple, especially with the girl's current predicament. "Don't worry, we'll get him a doctor and your boyfriend will be just fine."  
  
"He's not my boyfriend, he's just a friend," replied Buffy, temporarily forgetting the predicament of the object of their discussion in her need to clarify her situation.  
  
"My mistake, I must be getting slow in my old age," apologized the nurse hiding a smug smirk behind her practiced gentle smile; the situation was plain to see. What Buffy did not know was that Sarah was only five months from a retirement she was not sure she wanted, and had observed more people in all states of panic and worry than she could count. It was one of her favorite parts of the job, to see the real person when they are too preoccupied with their loved one's condition to worry about what sort of impression they are giving the people around them.  
  
Maybe it was the speed at which she spoke to deny the relationship or the way her eyes pleaded for someone to make the world right again, but at that moment Sarah was reading Buffy like an in flight magazine on a twelve hour trip, cover to cover. The sad part was that the experienced nurse could also see that the frantic blonde standing in front of her had no clue what she was feeling.  
  
"You just wait right here while we take care of this," said Sarah as she lead Buffy over to the waiting room chairs before going back to the desk to call for the patient's doctor.  
  
So Buffy sat in a molded plastic chair, as the people flew past her like a river flowing around a fallen tree, but she did not actually notice the activity around her, she was too busy berating herself. In her mind she committed an unforgivable crime, she ran. For all of her strength and all of her bravery in the face of death and violence she could not stand the hospital room, could not stand the look in his eyes, and that hurt the worst. She didn't just leave a fight; she left her friend, abandoning him to face the pain alone, but she had also sentenced herself to the same fate. She was alone with her shame despite being surrounded by doctors, nurses, and other people keeping a vigil for their loved ones, at least until Willow and Tara came through the sliding glass doors.  
  
"Buffy, what are you doing out here, is Xander okay?" asked Willow as she quickly closed the distance to her best friend.  
  
"He's awake, I went to find a doctor."  
  
"That's great, how is he, how did he take the news?"  
  
"I didn't tell him, I couldn't bring myself to."  
  
"That's okay, I'm sure he'll be fine," said Tara, quickly cutting off Willow, keeping her from saying something to Buffy she would regret later and also keeping Buffy from breaking down in the middle of the waiting room under a misguided verbal assault from Willow. Buffy looked like she had not gotten a minute of sleep in the last week, and she knew that Willow didn't get much sleep last night either, mostly because Willow had called her last night as soon as she brought Dawn home to tell her the entire story. But the person Tara was most concerned about was Xander.  
  
* * *  
  
Xander was brought back to consciousness by the feeling of something pressing on his chest. He tried to move his hand to swat away the cold object, but he couldn't get his hand to move and got little response from the other. Finally he was able to move the pieces of stone that had once been his eyelids to see that it was a doctor's stethoscope pressed down upon him.  
  
"Can I get some water doc," he rasped from deep in his dried out throat.  
  
"Sure thing, Mr. Harris, just try to keep still until we're through here," said the doctor reaching for the glass and pitcher that was sitting on the table in the corner of the room.  
  
The doctor brought the glass to Xander's lips allowing him to drink without dealing with coordinating his movements through the anesthesia's mind numbing effects. The cool water soothed his throat; washing away the cottonmouth and helping him clear his head.  
  
The doctor returned to prodding his chest with the stethoscope and checking his bandages while droning on about some sort of medical terminology that was too confusing to comprehend, so he only half listened and watched instead.  
  
The bandages seemed out of place to Xander. For some reason, his entire torso was wrapped in clean white bandages, but he couldn't remember his chest taking much of the assault, at least not enough to go beyond simply bruising. Of course compared to his arm nothing seemed like it could be that.  
  
"So we were forced to amputate your arm to stop the bleeding and salvage the connecting musculature."  
  
"Amputate!" shouted Xander when his mind finally figured out what the doctor was talking about.  
  
The doctor was immediately at his patient's side placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, keeping him from moving in his excitement and tearing the extensive suture work.  
  
"You have to remain calm, Mr. Harris. You have just gotten out of massive surgery; you have to be easy on your body."  
  
Even if he could have broken the hold of the doctor's firm hand and the steady flow of muscle relaxants and painkillers entering his blood stream, Xander was beyond moving at that point. He could not have moved even if he wanted to; he was too busy staring at the void where his arm should have been, too busy experiencing the nightmare that was that empty space.  
  
His mind tried to rebel against the cold reality that was grasping his heart and interrupting its constant rhythm. There could be no rhythm, there could be no constants, the world was no longer something he could count on; there was only anarchy.  
  
"I know it is a lot to take in, but we have a great therapy staff, both physical and occupational, and I'm sure you will see that this is not the end of the world."  
  
The doctor was shocked when his patient began to laugh like he was just told the best joke he had heard in a long time. Maybe it was the fact that he had seen the end of the world so many times that it was almost old hat, and now something that was apparently not the end of the world had ended his life.  
  
The doctor watched his patient continue to laugh hysterically but could not comprehend the joke. Eventually his patient's eyes closed and his laughter softened until it was replaced by heavy breathing, so he let himself out of the room as quietly as possible, hoping that the young man had laughed himself into a peaceful sleep, untroubled by the harsh reality that awaited him upon his return.  
  
* * *  
  
The doctor found the women he was looking for sitting together in the waiting room leaning close together and sipping steaming coffee from Styrofoam cups. He recognized Buffy and Willow from the night before, and easily assumed that the other blonde was also a friend of his beleaguered patient.  
  
Buffy had spotted the familiar doctor as soon as he entered the waiting area. His gait seemed strange to the observant slayer. His pace seemed to slow the closer he came to them and his hands seemed to fiddle with the stack of charts in his hand. It was apparent to her that the doctor was bearing bad news and was loathed to place it on them.  
  
"How is he?" she asked, standing up to greet him when he came to a stop in front of her, which prompted Willow and Tara to stand as well.  
  
"Physically he appears fine. The procedure was a success, his pulse and blood pressure are a little low, but that is to be expected with the type of pain killer we have him on," said the doctor looking over the chart in his hand.  
  
"Then he's okay?" asked Willow grasping Buffy's hand and squeezing it in assurance.  
  
"Yes, physically, his recovery seems to be more than we hoped for, but I'm concerned about his metal health."  
  
"What do you mean, 'mental health'?" asked Buffy fearing the worst and blaming it all on herself.  
  
"Well, when I explained to him about the procedure, his reaction was troubling."  
  
'He hates me and asked the doctor to not allow me back, he feels alone and keeps asking where his friends are, he doesn't know how to handle it and started crying,' and other scenarios ran through her head, each one getting more absurd and dramatic.  
  
"He started laughing."  
  
"Laughing?" asked a surprised Tara, the volume of her voice surprising everyone present, and no more so than Tara herself.  
  
"Yes, he laughed himself to sleep, and I'm worried about his response; it is not uncommon for an amputee to experience mourning aver the limb, and to feel depression, but he didn't shed a tear."  
  
"Well, Xander was never much for crying, doctor," explained Willow, "in fact, laughing is how he deals with most things."  
  
"I understand, I also think it is prudent to warn you that this way of coping may not be the healthiest. However, he seems well enough to entertain visitors as long as he gets his rest, so I'm sure you will be helpful in his adjustment."  
  
"Thank you doctor," said Willow before shaking his hand and watching him leave to assist another patient. "I guess we should go see him."  
  
"Are you sure now is a good idea?" asked Tara. "We might wake him."  
  
"Don't worry, we'll be quiet, besides, I don't think I can sit here much longer without making sure he is okay."  
  
Tara just smiled in understanding and followed Willow as she took the lead down the hall to Xander's room, while Buffy followed conspicuous in her silence. Something about what was said with the doctor struck a nerve in the diminutive slayer that she kept turning over in her head: He did not cry.  
  
She watched as Willow took the vacant seat next to Xander's bed and clasp his hand, and she watched Tara inspect the room for another place to sit before grabbing a chair from out in the hall, but mostly she watched Xander. She scrutinized his face, trying to remember the last time she saw him cry. She worked back to the beginning, but could not muster up a single instance. She had seen him crushed with sadness and quivering in rage, but she had never seen him shed a tear in either case.  
  
There was no doubt in her mind that he was one of the strongest people she knew, but even slayers cried, as she was well aware of considering the deluge that she experienced last night, and she felt so much better for it.  
  
It was like a weight had been lifted, like she found her catharsis and was ennobled by it, ready to move forward and leave the tears behind. She did not know if it was because of the release of emotion or just new, more pressing problems, but she almost felt calm when she thought about what she had gone through, like it was a million miles away. Maybe it was because she didn't have to carry around the weight of guilt and depression anymore, but Xander couldn't bring himself to do it and that scared her.  
  
However, she couldn't help the smile that came when he shifted in his sleep and pulled Willow's hand across his body pulling her to the edge of her chair. The look her stretched friend gave her was so reminiscent of the Willow she knew back in high school that she almost laughed out loud; the look of panic, embarrassment, and guilt mixed with her ever present smile was the essence of Willow.  
  
Unfortunately, when her eyes fell upon the peaceful face of her sleeping friend, Buffy sobered quickly when her mind posed to her second unsettling question of the day.  
  
'How many unshed tears can one person hold, and what happens when the damn finally breaks?'  
  
* * *  
  
Xander slept peacefully under his companions' watchful stares, and none more watchful than Willow, who remained by his side until a nurse came in to change his IV, decreasing the amount of morphine being fed into his body. The nurse also brought another chair into the room for Buffy to sit in, stating that the hospital normally regulated the number of visitors, but that the doctor specified that they all be allowed to stay.  
  
Xander continued to sleep on through most of the day leaving the three women to amuse themselves with ancient issues of 'Time', 'Newsweek', and the Sunnydale paper's crossword puzzle.  
  
"What is a four letter word for, 'a beginning of an era'?" asked Buffy from the corner of the room, where she sat with her back against the wall, her right arm resting on the back of the chair, her feet on the edge of the seat, and the newspaper propped up by her thighs.  
  
"Dawn," answered Tara idly while reading about a new product hitting the consumer market called the personal computer.  
  
"Oh, I knew that, I can't believe I forgot dawn," said Buffy in an amused tone. "Dawn! I forgot Dawn! What time is it?"  
  
"It's three thirty, Dawn gets out of school in ten minutes," said Willow looking at the clock on the wall.  
  
"I'll go pick her up and bring her back here for you," volunteered Tara when she saw Buffy looking back and forth between the clock and Xander.  
  
"No, that's okay, I can take care of it," Buffy said, not wanting to shirk her responsibility.  
  
"Really, I could use the fresh air," responded Tara getting up and looking at Buffy imploringly, begging Buffy to let her go.  
  
Buffy frowned slightly realizing that Tara was trying to get away from the room. The tension had been steadily increasing between the separated couple the longer they stayed in the room, and Tara could not take much more.  
  
"Okay, just bring her back here, she'll want to see him, but it would be best if you told her what to expect."  
  
"Sure, I'll make sure she knows what is coming," said Tara in a quiet voice, realizing that she had volunteered for a harder job than expected, but she accepted it as the price to pay for her freedom and quickly made her escape.  
  
"I still have to remind myself sometimes that we aren't together," Willow said sadly after what felt like an eternity of silence. "But I'm sure that she still reminds herself why we aren't."  
  
"I'm sure this is hard for her too," responded Buffy trying to be supportive for her friend.  
  
"That's what makes this so hard, because I feel like we're wasting time," said Willow, turning to look at Buffy. "We could still be together, we could still be happy together, but I don't know how to make her see that."  
  
"She already sees that," said Xander, smoothly interjecting himself into the conversation.  
  
"Well, if she sees.Xander?" responded Willow before processing who had actually spoken.  
  
Xander tried to maneuver himself into a sitting position, but found it difficult using only one arm that also held his IV, and having his torso tightly wrapped and bruised all over. Willow moved to help him grabbing him under his armpits and lifting, eliciting a sharp hiss from her friend as he stifled a gasp of pain making Willow quickly remove her hands subsequently dropping him back onto the mattress.  
  
"That's okay Will, I can handle it," he said before fighting his way to a sitting position.  
  
Buffy watched painfully from her seat, wanting to go help him, but also watching him grimace even more whenever Willow made a move to help. She couldn't tell if he refused help because he did not want anyone touching his bruises or if he wanted to avoid a bruise to his ego. Either way, having to sit and watch was not something she stomached easily.  
  
"She sees a lot of stuff, you know," he said when he finally propped himself up against the wall.  
  
"Who sees.oh, Tara, well if she sees, why doesn't she come back to me?"  
  
"Because she sees too much to do that," Xander said with a sad half smile. "She sees that you are making an effort, and she sees that you are making progress. She also knows things; she knows that part of the wake up call to help yourself was because she left, and she knows that if she comes back and things go back to the way they were, then you could go back too."  
  
"But I wouldn't do that."  
  
"I think she loves you too much to take that risk yet," he said and gently pulled her down for a hug.  
  
"Wouldn't you agree, Buffy?" he asked her with a big grin when his eyes fell on her behind Willow.  
  
"I think that Willow and Tara will be okay; I'm worried about someone else in this room."  
  
Willow broke the hug to watch his response trying to use her atrophied 'best friend' skills to read his reaction. Xander made a show of looking around the room inspecting either side of the bed and checking all of the other unoccupied corners before shooting Buffy his most charming grin and saying, "Well, I guess that's me. Don't worry about me; I'm just fine. I wanted to drop some weight after the wedding anyways, this way I don't have to do any of that tiring exercise."  
  
Xander smiled at Willow too, and made sure that she at least smiled a little, but Buffy wasn't so sure if she found the situation funny. He seemed slightly less 'Xander-ish' than she remembered, although she knew better than to say anything, mostly to avoid the horrible pun that she had a suspicion would follow the remark.  
  
"Xander!"  
  
A blur of hair and jeans burst through the doorway and attached itself to a surprised Xander, forcing out a loud breath with a sharp intake quick on its heels.  
  
"Easy, Dawn, he's still sore," explained a surprised Willow.  
  
"Oh God!" exclaimed Dawn, pulling away like he was made of plutonium. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, I've just been so worried about you this whole day, and then I saw you sitting up and looking like our Xander, and well, you needed to be hugged."  
  
Dawn grasped Xander's hand and moved to sit down without looking at the chair beside his bed, the one that Willow was still sitting in. Dawn simply pushed Willow sideways until she no longer had enough support to stay in the chair. Willow looked in shock at Buffy, who just shrugged and looked at the doorway where Tara was standing. Tara could only shrug and looked back over to Dawn, who was telling Xander all about what happened to her from the night before all the way to that minute, all in the span of about ten seconds, or at least it would have been except Dawn kept going back to other parts of the story as she remembered more 'important' information. Xander for his part listened dutifully, only sparing his attention to quickly look at the other women in the room in panic.  
  
"I think we better take her home soon before one of their heads explode," Willow said grinning at the scene in front of her.  
  
"Give her a little while longer, I figure she'll be on her fifth lap of this story after a minute or two. I wonder if Xander will even notice?" Tara added.  
  
"Are you kidding, Dawn doesn't even know how many times she has just told him about Chemistry class," said Buffy. "Which reminds me that we are going to have to start looking for the nerd squad again soon."  
  
The announcement forced all three of them to gaze at the empty space on Xander's right side despite the fact that it caused a chill to run down their spines. Xander looked over at them and smiled, but was interrupted by a large yawn, which Buffy took as her cue to step in.  
  
"Okay, Dawn, we have to go, Xander can't get any better if he doesn't get enough rest."  
  
"Ah, but I just got here, I don't want to leave," pouted Dawn.  
  
"Tomorrow's Friday, you can see him after school," Buffy assured her.  
  
Dawn didn't stop pouting, but she did accept her sister's ruling and gave Xander another hug, this time softer, and gave him a kiss on his cheek.  
  
"That was for saving my life," she whispered before walking over to the door.  
  
Tara also gave him a gentle hug and then walked over to Dawn and started talking to her about her day as they walked out the door and down the hall.  
  
"I think somebody may have just taken back his title as 'official crush'," Buffy said with a smirk.  
  
"She's just happy to be alive, I figure it will last until I get out of this place," he said with a yawn and a grin.  
  
"Well, she could always do worse when it comes to crushes," she said as she leaned down to give him a hug. Xander craned his neck up and kissed her cheek and said, "That was for saving my life."  
  
"Just returning the favor," she replied.  
  
"I'm going to stay here for a while," said Willow as she sat down next to Xander again.  
  
"Okay, I may come by later tonight after patrol."  
  
"Okay Buffy," replied Willow.  
  
Xander just smiled at her before turning his attention back to Willow to hear how the guys at the construction site reacted when she called to tell them he would be out for a while.  
  
Buffy watched the scene for a few seconds taking in Xander's wide smile that still did not seem right to her. Her gaze then fell to where his right arm had been and once again thought of finding the nerd trio. There was no doubt in her mind that she would find them, the only question was how many of their bones she was going to break when she finally did.  
  
* * *  
  
End of Chapter 4 


End file.
